


Smile, It's Sunrise

by Bhelryss



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Emmerina | Emmeryn/Philein | Phila, F/F, F/M, Florina/Vanessa, Heanius | Innes/Vanessa - Freeform, Knoll/Lyon - Freeform, Linde/Katua | Catria, My Unit | Reflet | Robin/Tiamo | Cordelia - Freeform, Tiamo | Cordelia/Philein | Phila, Wolf/Zagaro | Sedgar - Freeform, onesided Emerina | Emmeryn/Philein | Phila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: A place for small things. Hopefully it'll grow, as I scribble things in between class and work and writing for my bigger projects.





	1. Florina/Vanessa: Warm

Vanessa was always a little surprised, at how warm Florina ran. Her fingers were always hot on Vanessa’s skin, a heat that always drew Vanessa’s conscious thoughts away from wherever her head had gone. It was a welcome warmth, one that Vanessa always missed, when they inevitably drew apart, sepetated by the dawning sun and the weighty duties ahead of them.

 

“Your arms are warm,” Florina whispered, drawing Vanessa’s mind back from the skies she’d just flown. Askr’s skies were bright, and clear, lacking even the mild bite of Frelia’s spring, though Askr was deep into its autumn. She kissed the corner of Vanessa’s lips, having to reach up on the tips of her toes until Vanessa gladly leaned over to offer easier access.

 

Florina’s lips were as soft as her fingers were warm, and Vanessa’s mind was ever disquieted by knowing it was only luck and Askr’s great need that had brought them together. That had allowed their gently budding romance to spring forth, and the tender blossom of affection in Vanessa’s heart to open up to the gentle sunlight of Florina’s presence, to spread and grow as the days spent in each other’s company lenghtened and ran into the future. “You make me warm,” Vanessa says, mentally shaking thoughts away.

 

This was a moment to savor, and to celebrate. “Kiran let you go early,” Vanessa commented quietly, gladness evident in her voice. It was but the work of a moment to wrap her arms around Florina and to lift her up, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks and nose as the Elibean threw her arms around Vanessa’s neck and bracketed Vanessa’s hips with her knees for further stability. “Do you have time for dinner, tonight?”

 

From her vantage point Florina laid a kiss atop Vanessa’s head, a shy smile heard in her reply. “Yes, of course...”


	2. Vannessa/Innes: Heart

The king tells her to go, to fight for and with the princess of Renais. She goes, because she is loyal and Renais has been a good peacetime ally with Frelia, and she doesn’t ask any questions. She doesn’t think she has to, because what is more cut and dry than “Princess Eirika will be your commanding officer”? Finding out later that it was to find Prince Ephraim, and then to liberate Renais…none of that is surprising to her. 

After the war, Vanessa wakes up in her bed in cold sweats. Sweating and freezing and suddenly she needs to move. She needs to be anywhere but this dark room. Vanessa searches out torchlight, and company. Father Moulder keeps late hours, and she can call on him anytime, if the memories are too much.

But sometimes she finds Prince Innes pacing the halls. Sometimes she catches him by the hand, by the arm, and squeezes gently. He will either whirl on her, startled and fight response ready, or he will see her coming and welcome the touches. Their eyes are equally shadowed, equally exhausted. Sleep comes easy to neither of them.

War had forged her crush into something...different. It had been easy to feel something for Innes in the beginning. He was strong, and diligent, ambitious. The prince had preferred merit over nobility, which had been a boon to Vanessa’s martial aspirations, as the younger daughter to a rural, landed House. But after the war, it was different.

They had...an understanding. Knowing intimately the other’s prowess with their weapons, an ability to fight seamlessly together...that was their new normal. But on nights when they couldn’t sleep, Vanessa could pull her knees up to her chest, hold Innes’ hand, and they would just...talk. Not knight to prince, or commanding officer to subordinate, but Vanessa to Innes. 

The first time Innes kisses her, the sun is high and he’s caught her in between duties. It sends her heart sky high, and she floats around the rest of the day. They have...an understanding. She doesn’t want to be queen, and Innes won’t make her. He’d prefer they marry, but she wants to be his general more than almost anything, not just his wife. She will give him anything, except the opportunity to win that position on merit. 

He asks nothing of her except her heart, which she gives willingly, eagerly. 

(The people know who their queen is anyway, even if she wears a general’s stars at her shoulder, instead of a delicate circlet in her hair.)


	3. Linde/Catria: Closeness

Linde leans down, a hand on Catria’s shoulder for balance, as they both stare at a map. “You really went to Valentia?” she asks, part of her ponytail dangling just inside Catria’s range of vision. She’s in awe that Catria and her sisters had crossed the ocean, considering that Linde doesn’t think herself well travelled. “Was it nice there?” Linde asked quietly, leaning her cheek against the top of Catria’s head.

“I didn’t really notice if it was nice or not.” Catria deferred, reaching up to lay her hand atop Linde’s. It was nice to be together again, even if Catria would need to fly out in a couple days. Linde’s position in Pales didn’t lend itself easily to their long distance courtship, but then again neither did Catria’s continued position in the Whitewings. They each took what they could get and were glad when their duties brought them together.

Tucking her legs further beneath her chair, Catria remains quiet for a while. “There was a war there, you know.” Solemnly declared, and Linde feels as though she understands. War was always hard, on the land and on the people. It’s a way of saying  _ how nice could it be? _ without words.

Humming, because Catria clearly doesn’t want to talk about her experience overseas, Linde moves to press a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek. “No more maps, Catria,” she insists. “Come to dinner, before it gets cold.” Turning her hand under Catria’s over to catch fingers, Linde pulls and pushes Catria out of the study, and into the dining room. 

Since it’s just the two of them, two chairs have been pushed together at the end of the table, so they can be close to each other. Dinner is still warm, but it cools as they spend more time talking quietly of kinder things than war, or travel, or politics, than eating. Linde hooks her leg around Catria’s just because the short distance between them at the table is too much, and she enjoys the contact. 

They get up from the table in silence, and wash up in silence, and then Linde leans into Catria for a kiss. “I’ve missed you,” she sighs, glad for the closeness. Catria smiles into their kiss, and presses a kiss to Linde’s forehead after she’s finished.

“I’ve missed you too.”


	4. Wolf/Sedgar Hand Kisses

Wolf practices his swordwork and then his archery long into the night. Until all he has is moonlight and his intimate knowledge of the practice yard to guide him, lanterns not lit because he has been the only one there for hours. He’s reluctant to pause, even to give himself the light he needs, because to stop is to give his mind time to think. The opportunity to feel, even though he does not want to feel.

His fingers are stiff, his arm aches. The calluses on his fingers and hand feel like they’ve lost a layer of toughened skin from his relentless exertion. He doesn’t stop, he can’t stop. Wolf’s mind is too loud when he pauses, so he fully intends to work himself into a thoughtless exhaustion.

((Roshea and Vyland know better than to stop him, but he knows they checked on him while the sun was still shining.))

Roshea had looked even slighter in the shade, though his stature belies how strong he truly is, and Wolf knows he’s frowning. Wolf knows Roshea well enough to even picture the frown, the way his brow pinches in concern. (Wolf breathes in as his arm pulls back the bowstring, fingers twitching treacherously against the strain, and exhales the thought and releases the arrow.) Vyland had looked even angrier, a red stain against the stones, and Wolf knows him well enough to even picture that scowl, face red with the strength of the emotions that Vyland always, always feels. (He pulls back his arm again, and exhales the thoughts of his brothers, because he cannot bear to think.)

Sedgar calls to him from the edge of the yard, a lit lantern in his hands. He’s been slowly lighting them, taking them down from their places or from where they hang, and replacing them to cast flickering yellow light in a golden halo. His eyes are dark, though Wolf knows they are green, and his lips are curled up in a smile, though Wolf turns his head back to the target so he does not see. 

He doesn’t draw another arrow, but he doesn’t relax. His fingers have cramped and his arms are suddenly sore. Wolf closes his eyes against the sensory input, as he waits for Sedgar to close the distance between them. 

“Hey,” Sedgar says, soft and warm and Wolf opens his eyes, turns his head. Sedgar is smiling, and reaching for Wolf’s hand, deftly catching fingers between his hands. “You’ve practiced enough.” There’s no steel behind his voice, and no authority, but the softness almost frightens Wolf. He pretends he doesn’t know what it means, but it is a constant in their lives; he knows what it means.

Sedgar is gentle with Wolf’s overworked fingers, and Wolf pretends he doesn’t appreciate the way he rubs warm circles into the palm. He pretends, and Sedgar pretends that Wolf isn’t pretending. Raising Wolf’s hand to his lips, Sedgar kisses each knuckle, before going back to rubbing out the stiffness that overwork has left behind.

Wolf stops pretending long enough to give Sedgar a small, but overwhelmingly sincere smile. He doesn’t pull away, and it’s enough to make Sedgar smile, happiness radiating out. Wolf lets Sedgar pull him away, not even looking back at the target, riddled with arrows. All his marksman’s attention is at the point where he ends and Sedgar begins, and glad of it. He’s so glad for Sedgar.


	5. onesided Emmeryn/Phila; green eyed epiphany, space au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt meme: green-eyed epiphany and space au

Emmeryn has been the captain of her spaceship for years. Her father had pushed her through the nation’s academy with the expectation that she would eventually ascend to a position of great power within his empire, and perhaps be sated with that, so he could groom Chrom into an appropriate heir. She’d not minded this, as she’d relished the power, and the freedom, and she’d swiftly fallen in love with the stars. 

Her first officer was a woman named Phila, who’d been with her through enemy engagements and peaceful explorations. She was capable, kind, and Emmeryn thought of her as her best friend. They’d been together for years, and Emmeryn thought she knew everything about her. From her close friendship with their security officer, Frederick, to her mentorship of junior command-track officers. 

Emmeryn knew that Phila preferred real omelettes to the ones that came out of the replicator, even though she couldn’t tell the difference herself. She knew that Phila’s eyes had laughter lines around them, and that when she smiled she had a dimple on the right side. She knew that Phila was born left handed but had, through sheer persistence, taught herself to be proficient with both hands. 

She knew what Phila looked like in the lighting of a hundred different planets, in a thousand different colors, in what had to be every frame of mind. On duty, off duty, on shore leave and before her first cup of coffee. 

But she’d never seen her look like  _ that _ . The softness in her eyes, the gentle curve of her lips. The way she reaches out to touch the arm of Cordelia, their premier communications officer, and smile and blush. It feels like a punch to the gut, to see that sharp pair of familiar eyes turned to look so sweetly at someone else. Emmeryn feels like her stomach has been sucked right out of her, feels like she might be ill, might burst into tears right there in the captain’s chair.

She makes her excuses, forces the words, “You have the command, Phila,” out from between her lips, and disappears into the turbolift. Chest heaving, Emmeryn presses her fingertips to the hollow of her throat and tries to breathe. “You’re a fool, Emmeryn Lowell, you’re a damn fool.”

Pressing the heel of her other hand into one eye to halt the sting of unshed tears, Emmeryn tries to pull herself together before the door can open up. She has to be professional, and to squish this, this unhappy, crushing feeling that wants to strangle her heart and twist its grasping tendrils about her lungs. 

Phila is her best friend, and Emmeryn is in love with her, but Phila is in love with Cordelia.


	6. Emmeryn/Phila; space au

Phila sits in the captain’s chair like it was made for her. Her legs crossed and her back against the seat’s backing, she looks like a confident, capable captain. The bridge crew looks to her, and she gives advice and orders and takes reports. Her thumb is on the pulse of the ship, she knows everything is right and in its place. Everything is operating smoothly, and they will be at the star base within two more shift cycles with order for a weak of shore leave.

The lift opens and Phila gets to her feet. “Captain Lowell,” She greets, lips lifting into a fond smile. “Welcome back to the bridge.” Emmeryn dips her head in greeting, every inch the calm and considerate captain. There is no hint of the steel that lines her spine, but then there’s no call for Emmeryn to be as firm as she is capable of being. 

“Number One,” Emmeryn acknowledges, taking in the look of the bridge, noting which of her crew is relaxed and which ones are tense. She takes easy strides to her chair, and she stares out the viewport at the comforting colors of warp speed streaming over her ship. She breathes in deep, and exhales. 

“Lieutenant,” she calls softly, never one to raise her voice. Cordelia turns in her chair to look at her captain, and Emmeryn shakes two fingers behind her back to indicate Cordelia was not the one being addressed. Chrom looks up from his position at the helm, and Emmeryn smiles softly. “Take us to warp four, please.” 

“Yes, Sister - I mean, yes, Captain.”

Phila leaves the bridge four hours before Emmeryn’s shift ends. She sits in her chair, holds herself upright and facing forward, and tries valiantly not to look backwards and over to the lift longingly. When she leaves the helm under control of Beta shift’s supervisor, Commander Frederick, she quickly finds herself in the ship’s bar. 

Phila is out of her uniform, looking comfortable in a light blue sweater and pants that are loose, colorful, and long enough for the hem to swallow her feet. Emmeryn takes a bare second to wish she’d had the thought to change out of her own uniform, before crossing the room and planting a tender kiss on Phila’s lips.

“Did you miss me?” Phila teases, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of Emmeryn’s black trousers and pulling her closer. “You didn’t even take the time to change into that dress of yours, the one you know I like.” 

“I always miss you,” Emmeryn promises, one hand caressing Phila’s face and the other laying warmly on top of one of Phila’s hands. “Did you order already?” She has no real care for eating right now, not when all she wants is to spend the remaining hours in the day cycle with her hands in Phila’s hands. 

“Just a drink,” Phila answers, “But I finished that already.” There’s a light blush on her cheeks, and she touches her tongue to her lower lip, eyes wide and warm. “Did you want to eat?” 

“Not anything  _ here _ .”

Phila grinned, something slow and big, and pulled Emmeryn down for a fierce kiss. “Follow me, Captain.” Getting to her feet, Phila led Emmeryn along by the hand, until they disappeared into their shared quarters.


	7. Knoll/Lyon; interrupted confession of love, fake dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knoll/Lyon + fake dating, interrupted confession of love (reciprocated)

Knoll holds Lyon’s hand in plain view of everyone, and feels a little sick. He’s glad to be here, glad to hold Lyon’s hand, and even gladder that Lyon is squeezing back, but he still feels a bit like he doesn’t belong here. He does, he does belong here, Lyon has asked him to be here, but not...not for real, and that sits on his heart like a growing spot of tarnish on his family’s silver.

Lyon had asked him, months ago and on a much colder night, “Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?” He’d looked so desperate, and Knoll had already held a brightly lit torch for years, so he’d said yes quietly, with his heart in his throat. Lyon’s relieved smile had struck him so hard his heart had stuttered, and he felt dazed and dizzy with euphoria. 

“Thank you!” He’d gushed, reaching for and squeezing Knoll’s hands. “It will only be for a few months,” Lyon had promised, the worry lines around his eyes relaxing somewhat. “I just couldn’t bear to go through all this alone.” Whether he meant the weekly family dinners, the end of harvest dances that Emperor Vigarde held, or the Renaitian wedding he would be expected to attend, Knoll hadn’t been sure. All he’d known was that these next six months would likely be the death of him.

But they hadn’t been. Those six months had been some of the best he’d ever experienced. They’d danced together, practice for Princess Eirika’s wedding, and they’d stayed up late just talking, instead of quietly researching or reading separately. Knoll had thought he’d known Prince Lyon well before, but Lyon had wanted them to deepen their knowledge, to make the ruse seem sincere. At least, on Knoll’s side of the deception, every feeling and word was sincere. It took no acting at all to look at Lyon softly, as though he’d hung every single star in the sky, or to love him.

And all too soon, those six months were up. “Thank you, Knoll.” Prince Lyon says again, still holding Knoll’s hand. Knoll wishes dearly that he never lets go. “I would not have been able to go through these past few months without you.” Lyon looks upwards and away, and Knoll has the sad realization that even these types of quiet moments will now inevitably come to an end. “You know, I think I’ll miss this.”

“Me too, Prince Lyon,” Knoll admits softly, trying to steel himself against the inevitable pain he’d feel when Lyon severed their pretend relationship.

Silence settles for a moment, and Knoll wishes he could fidget with his robe, but his hands are full with Lyon’s, and he cannot pull away first.

“Prince Lyon,” Knoll says, impulsively. He will only have the courage to do this once, so he must act on it.

“Knoll, listen,” Lyon says, at the same time. He pauses, and laughs shortly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, go head.”

“I just wanted to say,” he begins, “that I don’t wish for this to end.” Knoll swallows against the way his heart seems to pulse in his throat. “I wish, I wish for us to...continue.” Words fail him then, so he squeezes Lyon’s hand gently, and looks down at his lap.

“Oh,” Lyon says quietly, before looking down at their joined hands. “Me too.” When Knoll looks over, Lyon is smiling. “I...like you.” It is almost too good to be true. “Will you be be my boyfriend?” He pauses, and then adds quietly, like a joke, “For real, this time.”

“I…” Knoll feels a little light headed, so he nods before he speaks. “I would love to, Prince Lyon.”


	8. Robindelia; Noodle Wives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was pointed out to me that anyone writing domestic gays is contractually obligated to reference the noodle video

Cordelia exhales deeply, shakes her head slightly, and begins pulling all her hair over one shoulder. In total silence, she begins braiding it loosely, just to get it out of the way. Robin shifts uncomfortably in her seat on the other side of the countertop, and watches as Cordelia finishes that, and then tosses her braid behind her head. Without a word, Cordelia bends down to light the stove. 

Robin’s shoulders shake, and a sound, not unlike a squeak, exits her mouth against her will. Her cheeks puff out with the strength of the laughter hidden behind her hand and her tightly pressed together lips. Her smile curls out from behind her hand relentlessly though, no matter the stony, pained expression on Cordelia’s face.

“Can you,” a brief snicker, and Robin clears her throat to try again, “Can you tell me why I’m in trouble, again?” She pushes her bangs out of her face, only for them to fall back onto her forehead. Robin sucks her cheeks in, laughter trying to bubble up from her core, and Robin exhales in brief bursts, trying to contain it. There’s a ninety percent chance she’ll start bouncing in her seat next.

“You’re my wife, Robin,” Cordelia says calmly, despite the way her expression is crumbling into itself. “You’re not in trouble.”

“Please,” Robin manages, despite the way her withheld laughter tries to choke the word. 

“You forgot to cook the noodles.” Cordelia says, and her eyes close as though in pain. “You put them in a bowl of water, and just.” Her mouth twitches up before flattening out again. “Served them, to Prince Chrom and Sumia.” She sniffs, and straightens her shoulders, eyes lifting up to the ceiling in search of strength. 

It’s at this point that laughter gushes out of Robin. She laughs and she laughs, and she puts her face on the countertop and she cries, she laughs so hard. Cordelia lasts for all of a moment, before she too is laughing, doubled over with her hands gripping onto her thighs for support. 

Robin doesn’t live down the noodle incident for six years. 


End file.
